The One That Got Away
Overview ... Content Ceyzull was the god of literature and musical arts. He was too busy writing his work or aiding Aputsiaq, the god of theater, needlework, and maquillage, with his stage plays to consider uptaking a mortal lover. A small handful of his siblings, if he could even consider them such, had done so by accident. It's not like Mother forbade them. He wondered why. One tender evening near his swamp, Ceyzull stood in the middle of a lake near a village. He pulled his violin out of its kelpy case, slowly rubbing the horsetail bow back and forth over the strings. The melody was enchanting, yet haunting. A small elven girl waddled towards the lake, her eyes glowing the same silver that Ceyzull possessed. Two assistants awaited upon the shore. "She's naught; barely any flesh!" The young nøkken called. "Yes, but her mother is certainly something." Ceyzull bared his piranha-like teeth in mirth, a handsome blond lad rushing to the muddy edge of the dark water. Her father will work just as well, Ceyzull thought. "Aurora!" He cried. "You monster! Let her go or by the gods, so help me!" "Pathetic mortal! I am a god!" He strummed his violin aggressively, a flash of light causing the father to hold his arm to his eyes. He lowered his limb a moment later, wading into the lake. "Ceyzull..." He mumbled, nearing the god and his daughter. Once he was close enough to Aurora, he kicked up a wave, grabbing his daughter and hauling to shore. "You will never take me nor my kin!" The deity was almost furious before he watched them get away, his wrath ceasing. The two assistants were swiftly to his side. "Why did you let them get away?! We had them!" The young man growled. "Hush, Oskar. Dear Ceyzull is thinking." The other assistant was a patient huldra, putting a hand on his arm. As he stated, the deity's pupilless eyes were full of emotion, his lips curled in intention. "I feel a fondness for him, as he got away. That has never occurred before." "A...fondness? What sort of fondness, sir?" The young man inquired, watching where the elves once were. "Similar to our sort?" The huldra wagged her cow-like tail, wrapping her arms around Oskar's waist and resting her head on his shoulder. "The sort of...curious, interested fondness..." The deity replied, placing his violin back onto his shoulder, strumming once again. The gold sun fell below the horizon, its silvery waning counterpart replacing it. The night brought many things; the chirp of crickets, the hoots of owls, the screams of victims even. Being the god of musical arts, Ceyzull only found pleasure in playing his violin elegantly and the scenery, while his subordinates found pleasure on feasting on the occasional passerby. After a wrinkled tub of lard and a warrior in leather armor found themselves in the jaws of the hunters, they let the lake return to its brazen blue color. "I presumed I expressed my distaste of old men." The huldra scoffed, dragging the body onto a cart. "I presumed I expressed my distaste of picky children." Ceyzull remarked scornfully. She glanced up at her master with guilt. "I apologize, sir..." "Ooh, Holly. He told you." Oskar chuckled, causing the huldra to throw a severed hand at him in anger. As the deity's subordinates attempted to drag the corpses to the cart, Ceyzull's mind wandered. He strode away from the nøkken and the huldra, their bickering drowning out the farther away he went. He found that his feet were leading him to the village. He saw the blond elf man from the previous night and his daughter. They were tending to a garden with a cur bouncing and barking about, chasing the chickens. A woman in a peach dress that was far from overused called from the house's porch, her speech inaudible from Ceyzull's hiding place. Both gardeners responded, getting up and going to where the woman stood. The father kissed her as the little one went inside with the dog, making the deity growl with a glare. Once they went inside, he stepped out of his hiding place, pulling out his violin. The disturbing and beautiful melody of antiquity was played once more, a soft cackle coming from Ceyzull's throat. "You won't escape me, elf." Trivia * I somewhat disliked my English teacher because of the way that she was. I accidentally wrote a blatantly gay story one time and she went all weird and uncomfortable about it, but she tried reassuring me that there wasn't anything wrong with it. So every time we had a free write, I wrote a subtly gay story. This specific one was originally written as my 9th grade final exam. I got a 100%, which doesn't surprise me. It was supposed to be one to two pages, so it's just a flash fiction.